


why see the world (when you got the beach)

by ShippingEverything



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Repression, Sword Fighting, those are essentially what i tag all my fabian fics but listen. i have a Writing Style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23406628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingEverything/pseuds/ShippingEverything
Summary: The Hangman would ask questions and rumble reassuringly, and Fabian doesn’t need to be reassured right now.or: fabian seacaster figures out his father's cutlass
Relationships: Bill Seacaster & Fabian Aramais Seacaster
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	why see the world (when you got the beach)

**Author's Note:**

> i thought too much about fabian having to teach himself how to adjust from rapier to cutlass and made myself sad, so! a fic for all of you 
> 
> i did So Much research on swords and watched So Many swordsmanship youtube videos while writing this. normally a drabble like this wouldn't make it to my ao3 but it Just Barely passed my personal minimum ao3 word count and i decided that i Might As Well since the season is ending on wednesday
> 
> title from frank ocean's _Sweet Life_ , but a Lot of that album inspired the creation of this fic. please enjoy!

Fabian doesn’t take the Hangman. 

He loves his bike like he loves his friends and Cathilda and his mother and the Bloodrush team, but this isn’t something for him to share with any of them. This is Personal. Private.

The Hangman would ask questions and rumble reassuringly, and Fabian doesn’t need to be reassured right now. 

He walks, and walks and walks, follows the river as the ground below him changes from grass to cement to gravel and back to grass. He walks until he’s tired and then goes further, finally kneeling in the damp dirt nearest to the river and dipping a hand into its waters. 

“Hello, Papa,” He says, after a silence that feels like it’s lasted an eternity. The majority of his papa’s body exploded that night on the balcony, and what was left wasn’t enough for a real burial; Bill Seacaster’s body was cremated and the three of them, Hallariel and Cathilda and Fabian, had dumped the ashes into the river to wash into the sea. Just like Bill would’ve wanted, Fabian’s mama had insisted, and Fabian-

Well, he hadn’t cried or anything; there was no reason to. He had heard and destroyed his papa’s embarrassingly emotional message, had spoken to him about how Fabian was his own man and not like Bill, why would he need anything more? His mama hadn’t cried either, just worn thicker sunglasses and spent a month chomping loudly on giant wads of gum. Cathilda had, though, she’d cried big, silent tears when they released his ashes and cried even more at the funeral days later. Fabian wondered, sometimes, if Cathilda came out here as he did; she had certainly seemed broken up enough about Bill’s death to do so.

Fabian clears his throat. He isn’t here to speculate about Cathilda. 

He stands, shakes the water off of his hand, and takes out his papa’s sword. It’s heavier than the one his papa had commissioned for Fabian before Freshman year, shorter and wider as well. Fabian adjusts his stance, the way Herzon taught him, and swings; his own experience with active combat helps some, as the kind of adjustments he learned to make for a moving target that's not just confined to a circle of patio that they're training on are similar to the adjustments he has to take for the extra heft of his blade, how it sings as it slides through the air and how it's easier to move into another strike rather than stop or pivot like he'd been taught for the rapier. He makes three cuts into the empty wind and turns on his heel to jab at an unseen enemy, his body easily falling into the exercises that he's always done, adjusting for air resistance as easily as breathing.

Even if he has to use a different handhold, and even if he can't quite do all the delicate quickwork that his mama models for him anymore, and even if the blade weighs more than he's used to, and even if his papa's cutlass is gold-detailed and extravagant and Fabian doesn't think he's earned it, not really, despite having shoved his rapier through Bill Seacaster's heart, it doesn't matter, not right now. Right now it is him and his father and his cutlass and the river and he's _going_ to figure this out before dawn tomorrow when Cathilda and he are set to duel under Hallariel's watchful eye. 

He is Fabian Aramais Seacaster, and failure is _not_ an option.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so so much for reading, comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc fuel my soul!
> 
> [Main Tumblr (pldubrahs)](http://www.pldubrahs.tumblr.com) | [Writing Tumblr (nacreousglowclouds)](http://nacreousglowclouds.tumblr.com/) | [Personal Twitter (@squidias)](http://twitter.com/squidias)


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